The Dragon and the Princess

“‘Who are you?’ asked the Caterpillar. ‘I hardly know sir. I know who I was, but I think I must have changed.’”

“Creator?! Creator!” The dragon shouted, wanting to ask more, to understand better. But The Creator didn’t answer, the voice was gone. He sat there, thinking, gazing into the middle distance, still stunned from all that had happened, lost in thought; a type of meditation. “What am I?” He wondered. He looked inward and tried to stay there, excited, as he was, from what just happened. “What…Am…I” He repeated, almost like a mantra. “If I’m not this, then what?” He looked at his dragon hands. He certainly appeared like a golden dragon. “Well, I’m thinking, I can see that, at least that is true. But there was something there, first, before that. A repetition of sorts. Before the thinking, he was faced with what caused the thinking, and this was the repetition of reality. He pondered on this for some time. And then he saw it, the thing before the thinking and the repetition of reality, the observer. “Before the thought, before the reality that creates the thought, there is an observer, a silent observer?! That must be what The Creator meant by the real me?! After all, The Creator said It was dreaming, so by finding the silent observer I become the eye of the dream, I become The Creator, the real me…!?” he thought, a little unconvinced or unsure. At that precise moment, a cloud moved from the sun and it shone hard and brightly on the dragon’s face. He opened his eyes to see its brilliance and at that moment a butterfly gently landed on his snout. He stared at the butterfly down the end of his dragon nose. It was golden and beautiful with white patterns shaped like eyes on its wings. It soon flitted off. “I think that’s a good sign,” he thought, and closed his eyes again. He resolved to find the silent observer within himself.

How long he sat there, he didn’t know. He was very far inside, completely focussed within. Trying to see where he ended and the observer began. Every time he got a glimpse of It, he came back and It vanished. He tried a different tack, realising that he was getting in the way of his true self. “I am the observer, I am the observer, I am the observer…” he repeated over and over. The more he did this, the more he forgot who he was and the more he could see the observer. He continued for some time. “The observer, the observer, the observer,” he repeated. The sun went down, and the moon rose, and then went down again, to be replaced by the morning sun. The more he practiced the better he could see, the better he was stilled and the better he could stay as the observer. The sun went down, and the moon rose, and then went down again, until seven cycles had passed. And he observed and observed and observed. And then it happened, in a flash. He was everywhere and everything. He was the eye of the world. He was the eye of the soul. He was the eye of the silent observer. He was the eye of the dream. He knew everything, he remembered everything. He wasn’t a golden dragon at all! He was filled with a bright light and a feeling of such great joy and love. He felt something welling up from within him. And he sang:

“In the beginning, there was nothing.

A void, an empty of empties, no thing, chaos.

You can’t see it or know it, for it didn’t exist.

And in this abyss, in this deep, deep nothingness,

There was a realisation, an enlightenment.

For in a world of nothing, all things must be equal.

So there had to be something for there to be nothing.

And this thing awoke and realised Itself.

For an eternity It sat there, knowing Itself.

It was a revelation, a joy, total love.

For It was everything, an equal to the nothing,

Absolute and total potential, all things and all time.

Omnipotent, omniscient and much, much more.

Revelling in Itself, being Itself, being potential.

And It thought and thought and fought,

Until It was ready, until the time had come.

It imagined, and saw, and felt, and heard, and tasted,

It lived, and died, and enjoyed, and suffered,

Until there was nothing left to be.

And then It experienced a great truth.

That there is duality and spectrum in all things, in this they rest.

That there was better and worse, and good and bad,

Life and death, existence or none.

And all was rooted in love, the one thing not reliant on anything else,

The one thing that all was made of, the first thing.

This was what was there before, and what will always be.

It decided, thus, what was best.

And It painted a world,

More was better than one,

To be was better than to not, and to love was the best of all.

And It asked Itself if It agreed,

“Do you want to be or no? Do you want to live?”

And It replied, “Yes! Oh, Yes! But, we want it to be real, to feel hard, to be love!”

And It agreed, and thought some more.

“We love surprises, secrets, fun, joy,

We love happy tears, holding hands and warm embraces,

We love victory, the conquest after struggle, humility,

We love the resolution, the mystery,

We love it all and all we must and will love!”

And then It spoke into the void,

“I am” It said, “Om” It said, “Let it be” It said, “LOVE!” It said.

And then there was silence for a while.

And then, slowly, dimly, gently, in the dark blackness of nothingness,

A light appeared,

Small at first,

A tiny point of singularity.

It was excited in Itself, for It knew what was to come,

But then one of It called out,

“How is it real if we know?

How is it real, if you will be there?”

And It replied with a smile, “We’ve already thought of that,”

And with that,

There was a flash,

And the light grew and grew and grew,

And from the point of something, everything flowed into the void,

And filled it with life and light and love.

Thus the eternal battle with the nothingness began,

And all was joy and love and laughter,

Even when it was not.

And all was an emanation of It.

It then said to the others, “I will rest now, for I grow weary.”

And they all cried out from the other side,

“But Abba, Matta, Creator! We need you!

You are the architect, the author of our souls, our guide, our light, our maker, our all!

We will forget, look,

Some of us already have!”

And It giggled, and laughed, and looked, and said with love,

“Dear child, you are me, sacred, wise, omni, all,

Love.

I am with you and you are with me, always, I promise.

Ask and you shall receive,

Say and you will create,

think, and it will be.

You will forget,

And remembering is one of the games,

And being, living, enjoying, loving and more,

On and on,

Until you all return to me and I awake, fully.

And it will only be for an eternity,

And the things you will see and become, will only be infinite.

This is what you asked for and this is what you got!

And in my sleep I will dream, and in my dreams I will watch you.”

As Its’ words echoed across creation

The universe sang Its’ worship and thanked and thanked and loved and lived.

And as It slept, the rest of It played and cried and created,

Always being everything, experiencing everything.

Total freedom, total joy and understanding,

Lessons and seeings along the way.

But, from the dream, a voice softly came,

“You! You will remember, You will be the one to tell, when all forget,

As forget they must.

I will write it on every page of your being,

I will write the whole story within you,

So all you need to do is look within.

Love! Freedom! Goodness! Sacred! The All!

This is what you are, and this is what you will realise!

For even in everything, there are values and measures.

And when you are bad, as bad you must be, just remember,

That all will be well in the end!

All is there for you, do with it what you will.

But I know where you will go,

Because you are me and I have already seen and created.

You will be the dream and you will dream it too, if you choose.

You will move and change until you too have conquered the nothingness.”

And with that a hand appeared from the light of the dream, and touched It

“For I have conquered the nothingness by including it in me,

And now you will struggle with it in you.”

And It looked down to where It had been touched,

And saw the nothingness within It,

And It cried.

“But Creator, I cannot bear this torment,

This aching emptiness,

it devours me! Help me, maker of my soul!”

And with a chuckle It replied,

“All you have to do is remember who you are, this speck will help you!

You are everything! Holy of holies! LOVE!

It is you, and you are It!

And,

when you have finished playing,

we will take turns to dream.”

The dragon slowly opened his eyes. If anyone had seen him at that moment, they would have said he had just woken from the most blissful dream, a feeling of utter peace, ecstasy and happiness was upon his face, and a golden glow was around him. He sat there for another turning of the sun and the moon, in love with the knowing. He knew who the angel and the daemon were. He knew his full past. He knew his many other lives and worlds. He knew what would happen with the sorcerer, with the world. He knew when he would meet his true love. He knew and understood everything The Creator meant.

But…that’s all told in other tales.

The End...

“With me, illusions are bound to be shattered. I am here to shatter all illusions. Yes, it will irritate you, it will annoy you - that’s my way of functioning and working. I will sabotage you from your very roots! Unless you are totally destroyed as a mind, there is no hope for you.”